


Blue and Yellow

by orangina



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:48:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangina/pseuds/orangina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benedikt and Mats are fans of opposing hockey teams. Benni gets in a fight. Mats is really nice. Kiss Cam happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue and Yellow

Everywhere you go in life, you will have enemies. Even if you go out to support your team at the home arena, you will probably encounter a fair number of people wearing the opponent’s colors. It wasn’t as noticeable in North America as say in a European league since there was a much greater distance between some of the cities. You never really saw an entire section full of people rooting for the enemy. But you still saw them and instinctively developed a sort of disdain for them. _Who do you think you are, strutting around like you’re welcome here? This is OUR house, not yours. Well, you won’t be strutting anymore after we’ve whooped your sorry little asses._

Benedikt Höwedes was a hockey fan. Particularly, he was a fan of the Tampa Bay Lightning. So when he went out one Friday night to support his team (by himself, as per usual -- he was there for serious purposes, not for social ones), he didn’t put much thought into the enemy. But he should have. Oh, he should have because it just so happened that at this particular game, his seat was located directly next to a group of loud, obnoxious, and unabashedly drunk Boston Bruins fans.

Yep, Benedikt definitely had some of the best luck in the world.

 

* * *

 

Benedikt’s blue and white clashed horribly with the black and yellow of his neighbors. He tried his best to ignore them and focus on the game, but the task proved to be impossible on account of the fact that the shitfaced idiot to his right kept on elbowing him and stepping on his foot and appeared to not even be concerned about his severe lack of personal awareness. Benedikt could feel his temper steadily rising, and soon enough the beer he had purchased himself was shaking so hard in his hand that it was threatening to spill over the sides onto his precious jersey. He actually considered calling security a few times but decided that it wouldn’t be appropriate just yet. But that all changed when early in the first quarter, Patrice Bergeron (whom Benedikt concluded that he disliked more than any other Bruins player simply because of what happened next) tapped the puck and it slid past Ben Bishop into the back of the net.

Benedikt almost missed it due to how quickly it happened. That was the thing about hockey. If you didn’t pay attention to the play from the beginning, you would lose track of what was happening. However, you didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened especially with the help of your bellowing, highly intoxicated black-and-yellow neighbors.

Benedikt tapped his neighbor on the shoulder and said, with great annoyance, “I think we get the point, jackass.”

The neighbor turned and looked at him. Benedikt was immediately caught off guard just by how, well, _attractive_ he was. He had nicely styled blond hair and clear skin and his fierce eyes were sort of the most enrapturing thing on the planet. But Benedikt didn’t have long to enjoy the sight because the next thing he knew, he was being shoved hard in the chest and stumbling back. He just barely caught himself, and he smashed his elbow on the back of a seat in the process. Pain seared all the way up through his arm which served only to fuel his rage.

“Keep your fucking hands off of me!” the Bruins fan spat.

“Just let it go, dude. It’s not worth it,” one of his friends, a douchey looking brunette, said.

“Watch yourself, faggot. Don’t fucking do that again,” he growled. Then he turned back to his friends to continue cat-calling and celebrating.

_Faggot._

The word echoed around torturously in Benedikt’s head.

He was not having _any_ of that shit. His blood was boiling, his lips had disappeared between his teeth, and his face felt like it was on fire. He took one step towards the jerk and sloshed the remainder of his beer all over the hideous black and yellow of his neighbor, who let out a cry of outrage.

And then he was being pushed again, but it felt different this time. This time, the Bruins fan wasn’t simply attempting to ward Benedikt off; he was aiming to _hurt_ Benedikt. He crushed Benedikt’s ribs, balls and even sent a blow to his ear. Benedikt managed to twist one of his arms free and grab a handful of that amazing hair to snap his neck back.

He was not aware of it, but the fight was slowly garnering the attention of all the fans in their section. He also had no idea how much pain he was in because he was too crazed on damaging the young man who was trying to mutilate him. Profanities and harrowing insults were exchanged frequently, and it eventually got so bad that it passed the point of entertainment to a point where intervention would have been necessary. A few of the black and yellow guys tried but it was completely useless. This battle would have to play out itself.

Then, at long last, Benedikt received the blow that would end the fight. It was right between his eyes and on the bridge of his nose. He yelled in agony as he landed in the concrete aisle, flat on his back. He couldn’t see and he couldn’t feel his nose, but he could reach up to his face and realize that it was wet.

Benedikt rolled to his side and moaned in misery, cupping his hands over his demolished face. It was only becoming wetter and wetter with something thick and warm. He was vaguely aware of one of the black and yellow fans kneeling down beside him and it was clear that this one wasn’t drunk out of his mind. It might’ve been the same one who warned his friend that picking a fight wasn’t worth it.

“Can you hear me?” he asked frantically, shaking Benedikt’s shoulders.

Benedikt gurgled a response. At this point, he was hurting too much to feel embarrassed or ashamed about the fact that he was currently on the ground, groaning in pain after having just been beat up in public. The next thing he knew, he was being lifted to his feet and supported as the two of them moved forward with purpose.

“Hold your nose and tilt your head forward. You’re bleeding a lot, you don’t want all that to wash back down your throat.”

Benedikt nodded and did as he was told. He tasted the blood anyway, strong and salty in his mouth. It made him want to gag. He was a bit uncoordinated and foggy, but the blackness plaguing his vision was gradually fading away and allowing him to see in front of him again. The person holding Benedikt up kept talking, his voice filled with urgency and something else too that Benedikt couldn’t recognize; all he knew was that he liked it, whatever it was.

“I know you feel like crap but we need to go faster or both of your asses are getting thrown in jail tonight.”

Benedikt nodded again. That was all he could really do, and he couldn’t even nod that much in fear of his throbbing nose flipping a shit and sending even more blood trickling down his forearm from the palm of his hand. He didn’t know or care who was helping him at this point, all he knew was that he was grateful and he kind of wanted to tell this mysterious person that he loved them.

 

* * *

 

One of the good things about hockey games was that fights were not too uncommon of an occurrence. So after the excitement of the action was over and the two instigators were separated, people lost interest and returned their attention to the game. Benedikt and his partner were in the safety of the bathroom now.

“What’s your name, man?” the Bruins fan asked. He was pulling paper towels out of the dispenser and handing them to Benedikt, who pressed them to his nose to stem the flow of blood.

“Benedikt,” Benedikt tried to say but it was a bit hard to distinguish on account of the fact that 1) he had a rotten nosebleed, and 2) he didn’t talk very loudly over the din of the men’s restroom.

“What?”

“Benedikt.”

Black and yellow guy frowned. And that’s when Benedikt realized how pretty he was, even prettier than his friend from earlier. In fact, he was probably the most beautiful man that Benedikt had ever seen. Sure, he resembled your typical douchebag but he was a good-looking douchebag. His hair was dark and wavy, his eyes rich and bright and his lips were full and really soft looking. Said lips twisted in confusion as he tried to understand Benedikt.

“Speak up, man.”

Benedikt held the paper away from his nose. “Ben-ne-dikt,” he said very clearly before adding, “but call me Benni, please.”

“Mats,” the guy called Mats said, and he held out his hand. Benedikt shook it after he was too late to remember that he had blood all over both of his hands, but Mats didn’t seem to mind. He just flashed a smile and it was the most gorgeous smile Benedikt had ever witnessed on holy planet earth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you although it’s a shame that it had to happen through these circumstances. And about what he called you -- that was inexcusable and I apologize on his behalf.”

Benedikt shrugged, holding a fresh paper towel back up to his nose not only to catch the blood but to cover up the blush seeping across his noticeably pale cheeks. “It’s all good. It happens. I shouldn’t have provoked him. But hey, thanks for…”

He couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound pathetic. Then again, he already _was_ pretty pathetic as of now. Not only had he lost a fight against someone fairly shorter than him, but he also had to deal with the added humiliation of having been the one to start it.

The shame hit then, and it was all so overwhelming, being in the presence of an actual god in human form whilst he looked like an unfortunate piece of shit and such and his nose still bleeding like it had a point to prove and of course, the fact that his team was still losing made him look like even more of an asshole. Benedikt hung his head and tried his very best to disappear.

“Seriously, don’t mention it. Marco’s kind of wild sometimes. Think you’ll be okay?”

Benedikt looked back up. The genuine concern in Mats’ expression made him feel weak and light. He really was a handsome guy, and the undeniable affection Benedikt was beginning to feel for him was worsened by the fact that Mats had been so kind to him and made sure he was okay and stuff after getting him the hell away from Marco even if he didn’t deserve it because it was his own fault. But after Benedikt assured Mats that yes, he was a bit sore but he didn’t think his nose was broken and he would be fine, he understood that the reason Mats had asked was because he wanted to get back to the game. It was basically a hint that their little chit-chat was over.

“Alright, I’m gonna head back out. You might want to stay under the radar for a bit longer if you don’t want to get arrested. Feel better, man. Benni,” Mats said, and then he thumped Benedikt’s back (which made the latter wince slightly seeing as he had just landed on it) and left.

Benedikt groaned and leaned over the sink. A whole new kind of ache was entering his body, now. And it all had to do with that Mats guy leaving before Benedikt could even get to know him and, you know, ask for his number and all that. It was basically a wasted opportunity.

 

* * *

 

By the time Benedikt had recovered and deemed it safe enough to return to his seat and not get pulled over by security, there were just a few minutes left in the second quarter. In any normal situation, he probably would’ve tried to get his seat changed. But this was not a normal situation.

When he returned, Mats had traded places with his buddy Marco. He smiled up at Benedikt once he had returned. “Hey, Benni.”

“Hi,” Benedikt said, almost breathlessly. He sat back down and tried to ignore the pounding in his chest at the fact that he was sitting _next_ to beautiful, thoughtful Bruins fan guy. Fuck any rivalries.

“Feeling alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Benedikt’s throat felt tight and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands so he ended up folding them across his lap. He averted his eyes away from Mats and pointed them towards the game, but he didn’t really process what was happening. He didn’t even know who was winning anymore and frankly, he didn’t care because there was only one loser that mattered at the moment: himself.

“Benni, look at me for a sec,” Mats said with a little hint of amusement in his tone.

Benedikt blinked. “What?”

“You missed a spot.” Mats reached across the small space between them and wiped something, probably a speck of blood, off the side of Benedikt’s nose. “There we go.”

Mats was chewing his lip softly, his eyes warm and gentle. Benedikt put his hand up to his nose again as if he were trying to convince himself that Mats really had just done that. He felt his mouth threatening to form a smile, so he lifted his other hand to cover his mouth, too; he was sure that nothing good could come out of a giddy, uncontrollable grin. His eyes darted around nervously, avoiding everything but the perfect, rich features of the man before him.

Mats shook his head ever so slightly. “I cannot believe that you are the same guy who just tried to rip my friend’s head off.”

Benedikt’s eyes went wide with shock. He couldn’t understand why Mats was still smirking cheekily like that. What the hell was going on?

“Wh-why?”

“Because you’re really fucking cute, I guess?”

Benedikt coughed and Mats chuckled.

He had the sense that there were people watching him, and he was aware that the quarter had ended. Why did he feel like _everyone_ was staring expectantly at him though? And how come they sounded like they were urging him on something?

Yep, he was definitely a paranoid freak. He was convinced of it.

That was until, Mats pointed up at something, looking as smug and collected as he had this entire time, so Benedikt looked and almost fell out of his seat.

They were on the fucking _kiss cam_.

He never thought he’d ever make the cut for kiss cam on account of 1) the fact that he always came by himself and, 2) that kind of stuff always happened to other people, not him.

But apparently, he and this guy whom he had met only less than an hour ago because he had 1) tried and failed to rip his friend’s head off, as stated by said person, and 2) been thisclose to getting arrested had he not been whisked away from the scene by said person.

And now, the entire arena was waiting for them to kiss.

Benedikt saw himself entering a little panic fit on the screen, which simply made him panic more. First off, his hair looked like he had gone swimming and climbed out of the pool without discreetly ruffling it back into its natural position so it had dried looking like a science experiment gone wrong. Second, his face was the same color as the skin of the apple he had chopped up this morning to put in his oatmeal for breakfast. And third, he pretty much looked like he was having a panic fit.

He shook his head. ‘He’s not my boyfriend!’ Benedikt tried to mouth, resulting in laughter and cheers erupting throughout the crowd. He’d seen this happen before, the whole ‘he/she is not my boyfriend/girlfriend/we don’t even know each other’ thing and he would just have to be one of the lame-os who resorted to that because he would never, ever have the guts to kiss Mats. Even if he wanted to, which he kinda did, he wouldn’t do it because Mats would probably abandon the whole ‘let’s keep you from getting arrested’ thing they had going on.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel pleased about seeing himself and human-greek-god up there, together, on the screen for the entire arena to see, wearing opposite jerseys and one of them looking like a freak and the other relaxed and confident.

“They’re waiting for us. Don’t be shy.” Mats smiled, his eyes darting back up to the screen occasionally.

Benedikt’s mouth was dry as a desert. Even if he had wanted to say something, he wouldn’t have been able to. The next thing he knew, Mats was muttering “this is ridiculous” and leaning in so close that everything else around them disappeared. All Benedikt could focus on was that amazing pair of lips, which, seconds later, were pressed to his.

His ears were ringing, his head was spinning, so he closed his eyes and melted into the arms that were now wrapped somewhere around his body; he was floating around too much to take notice of where exactly. It started out gently at first, almost friendly, but both men realized how much they were enjoying it after mere seconds and deepened the kiss.

They stayed attached long after the camera had panned over to another unsuspecting pair. The only reason they broke apart eventually was because both of them needed to breathe.

“Where...how…” Benedikt panted, wanting to know just where Mats had learned to _do_ that. Everything felt surreal, every inch of his skin was still tingling with delight and his lips felt numb.

Mats winked. “Listen,” he said.

So Benedikt listened. _Sugar / Yes please / Won’t you come and put it down on me?_ was soaring throughout the arena and the crowds had gone wild. Kiss cam was always a great pick me up when the home team was down by three goals, especially when the kiss cam took its role a little too seriously and evolved into a matchmaker for single homosexuals of opposite cities.

 

* * *

 

Down the road, the only issue was the distance. Boston and Tampa were not exactly within driving range. Mats and his friends had been in the area for a vacation.

They had talked about it. They had discussed whether they could make it work or not and start seeing each other. And they came to a mutual agreement that they probably couldn’t. Benedikt didn’t feel too much of a loss. Perhaps it was a good thing he hadn’t even gotten to know Mats before it all ended.

But in the back of his closet, where he used to keep his blue and white one, hung a black and yellow jersey in its place.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Susanna, who wanted a hockey fans AU. If you have any request for me leave it in the comments and I'll try to write it for you :)


End file.
